


tear me to pieces, skin to bone

by withered



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: But whatever, Clearly diverging from Infinity War though, I mean this could be extended but it won't, I need to stay off tumblr omg, Mantis gave me feelings so you can have feelings too, Never Wanda friendly honestly, Not Wanda Friendly, Pre-Slash, Slight spoiler for Infinity War, because I tried to be poetic and shit, there's feelings being compared to space, tumblr inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 03:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14584098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withered/pseuds/withered
Summary: Humans are very prone to emotion and are harder for it. Wanting to hide it away – wanting to pretend they’re infallible to it. Mantis thinks its either brave or stupid. Emotions, after all, are meant to be felt.Based off a tumblr ask that begged the question, "What would Mantis feel if she touched Tony?"





	tear me to pieces, skin to bone

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly inspired by Illuminate Me by HalfSubmergedinPurgatory, if you haven't read it, wHy? It's poetic cinema on paper, READ IT.

Emotions are fickle and fragile.

Like the galaxies beyond, emotions pass and fade; grow and consume. They flicker in winks, or blink in the never-ending darkness like someone just waking up for the first time; sometimes they simply loom – dark and judgmental, an icy sheen that catches the light of the nearest sun.

Thinking of it that way makes differentiating emotions easier, somehow.

It makes it easier when a planet meets its end, and she knows what the final visages of its inhabitants felt, knows what to call it when she feels an echo – a last cry of _something_ before there’s nothing.

She knows that emotions exist in degrees rather than categories.

After all, she’s felt the meanings as it pressed bruises against her skin, knows how to differentiate when the bruise is an accident and when it settles against her like a strike with the intent to kill.

The first emotion she learns is anger and the bruise it leaves vivid; furious and violent like when a collapse of a star begins. It prickles like needles to the back of her eyes, a constant assault that brings a metallic tang to her tongue, choking back blood that isn’t there, but she can feel pooling at the base of her throat anyway. Anger, Mantis learns burns.

Grief on the other hand, is heavy.

An impossible weight on frail shoulders forcing its carrier to bow their heads in mourning, in reverence for a loss that they can still feel. In her mind’s eye, she can see that looming planet, nothing more than a shadow in its corner of the universe, and the accompaniment of Drax, with a boulder on his back, comes to mind too.

Those who feel grief heavy enough to crush leave bruises that take forever to abate.

Sadness is similar except it’s more like a pit, it’s a chasm that you slip and fall into and sometimes never come out of. Only hollowness meets her, a void of nothing. There is no bruise; there are no stars or planets to compare it too, it is simply darkness; lonely and suffocating and empty.

Sadness, Mantis thinks, scares her the most.

And on Earth, sadness is an emotion that many people experience far too easily, no matter how well they try to hide it.

James Barnes is the epitome of sadness; it swirls within him like the entrails of a star collapsing, mixed with guilt and anger and despair. She can't begin to know how he came to be like this, but it must have been awful. Mantis decides, though, that he isn’t a black hole, he’s fighting still, there’s still some light in him – some fragile, precious hope still flickering within.

Humans amaze her.

When they enter the room, the tension is palpable but unsurprising.

They’re foreigners on their land, but they seem more on guard about one of their own then the Guardians themselves, particularly towards one man.

When she first meets this man – Tony Stark – Mantis knows what she’ll feel when she touches him.

Anger; Shame; Disappointment; Fear; Guilt; Sadness. It’s a familiar cocktail for heroes, and humans are particularly easy to suss out if Quill is a true example of his species.

But she knows he’s a true example because Mantis can see it in his eyes and the way he holds on a little tighter when he embraces his friends, the boy, the red android and the other man with a suit like his.

Humans are very prone to emotion and are harder for it.

Wanting to hide it away – wanting to pretend they’re infallible to it.

Tony Stark plays the role well; the swagger, the cockiness; the snark. He reminds Mantis very much of Rocket, and by the way the raccoon grumbles, he knows and isn’t sure what to do with the information yet.

When she does finally touch him though, an icy chill runs down her spine.

Despite herself, she staggers, and she stares at him in wide-eyed wonder – examines him quickly to note, yes – he’s breathing, he has an expression of surprise, his hands are moving, he – he’s alive but that’s impossible because –

She reaches for him, wanting to be sure and though he steps back to avoid her, there’s no escaping her even as that boy yells, “She’s gonna grow eggs on his chest!”

With an exasperated sigh, he says, “Peter, she’s not -”

“You’re dead,” Mantis interjects.

It’s impossible.

There’s a pulse beneath her fingers, his skin is warm, his eyes are bright through the lenses of his sunglasses – what is this?

He’s looking at her warily, and around the assembled “Earth’s Mightiest Heroes”, they too look various shades of confused.

She doesn’t release his wrist, though, only tightens her hold – searching, searching for _something_.

“She’s empathetic,” Gamora explains, just as Mantis looks at him in desperation – he can’t – can he?

Mantis is young still, she knows that her knowledge is lacking, but this – there’s a lack – a lack of, period.

“How – how are you alive?” She doesn’t realize that as she whispers it, the room is quiet, and there are people shifting around uncomfortably. Mantis doesn’t care as she continues to prod, and he – Tony Stark –takes it in stride and flashes a slight smile. “Through nothing but spite.”

She withdraws, and she can feel the air around them shift again – discomforted – before he clears his throat and removes his sunglasses. The intakes of breaths that follow seem almost comically in unison.

“Your eyes…”

 “Figures,” one of them, the red girl declared with a huff of unimpressed breath, despite the way her hackles are clearly raised. “You just can’t leave well enough alone can you? Then again, you always were a heartless machine.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” Nebula says flatly, but the threat in her voice is real.

Softly, Mantis whispers, “What did they do to you?”

“What I should have done a long time ago.” There is no tremor in his voice, no regret – no shame for what he needed to do to face – _this_ , Mantis realizes.

He knew.

He knew, and he did this.

 _I wanted to be strong enough to face it. I wanted to be strong enough to protect them,_ she can practically hear the intention in the single glance he sends her way, before, solidifying her theory, Tony Stark raises his hand, setting the room alight with holograms and maps and battle strategies, and declares, “Now that that cat is out of the bag, let’s get this party started, shall we?”

James Barnes straightens in interest, and she isn’t surprised.  

There’s a warmth that radiates from him – the strength, the true confidence, the hope that James Barnes has been holding out for. Seemingly coming from within, effortless and all-encompassing, it illuminates him, and that’s when she knows.

Tony Stark isn’t comparable to a planet or a star, he’s a supernova.

Humans, Mantis decides, will never stop amazing me.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Click here if you want to find out more about my work](https://everything-withered.tumblr.com/)


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